Three Days
by vanilaice86
Summary: Post-war semi-fluff. Written as a one-shot for now; potential for expanding if reviews are positive.


It had been three days since the war ended. Three days since he nearly died. Three days since he said his final goodbyes to her, preparing to never see her again. Three days since he felt something when she clutched to him, refusing to let go without a fight. And three days since he walked away, knowing that she'd run straight back to him as he left.

"I'll go with you." The words repeat in his head over and over as he lays in bed, staring out the window at the night sky – more peaceful and calm than he remembers ever seeing it before. He doesn't think he remembers seeing the stars. Not since his time in the tent with her. Everything was bright then, even in the dark of night. Everything was illuminated.

She was ready to follow him to death; ready to finish the journey they had begun together years before. She was the most loyal person in his life. As much as he wanted her to be by his side for whatever happened next, he wanted even more for her to live a beautiful, beautiful life. He thinks maybe that's what being in love means.

He tosses and turns, unable to fall asleep with thoughts of Voldemort, the war and those who lost their lives on account of him. He knows he shouldn't think it, but the guilt overwhelms him sometimes. He thinks of her. Her hair. Her eyes. The way they fit like a perfect puzzle as they danced. The look on her face when it ended and how he swore they were both thinking the same thing. His eyes flash open with regret that he didn't tell her how he felt.

He jumps out of bed with a tiny knock on his bedroom door. He'd taken over Ron's room after the war, until he figured out where he was going next. Ron stayed with him for the first night, but couldn't sleep through his nightmares. Ron moved to his brother's room shortly after that.

The door opens slightly ajar and he's surprised when it's not Ron's mum sneaking in to check on him, but her.

"Hi." She says in a cracking whisper, hovering in the doorway, her hands playing with the hem of her rolled up shorts.

"Hi." He returns, frozen in his place. He can't help but think that the moonlight through the open window only makes her look more beautiful.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" She asks, leaning one arm against the doorway arch.

"No." He says, shaking his head. "I don't sleep much anymore."

"Me either." She replies, running a hand over her messy ponytail.

"Come in." He commands. She shuts the door lightly as she agrees and sits on the end of his bed. Harry sits beside her.

They don't speak for what feels like hours. The sound of crickets fills the room. She breaks the silence.

"We haven't really talked since everything happened." She mumbles as she looks down. He notices her fumbling with her hands.

"I haven't really spoken to anyone, Hermione."

"I guess I thought you would have talked to me." She says, quickly looking up at him and back down. He immediately identifies her sadness.

"You're the only one I want to talk to." They both stare straight ahead, emotionless and cold. "You're the only one I seem to care about anymore."

"That's not true," she says, turning her body slightly towards him, ready to engage. "You care about Ron and Ginny and everyone else…"

"Not like I care about you." He says, shaking his head. They sit in pregnant silence again. She waits for him to say something, anything. She hopes it was anything but this.

"How are things with you and Ron? He seems to be thrilled." He chuckles lightly, recalling his best friend's happy disposition as of late. His jaw clenches with jealously.

"Does he? I hadn't really noticed." She turns her head away from him. He thinks he sees the glisten of new tears forming.

"What's wrong, Hermione? This is what you wanted. The war is over, we're safe. You and Ron are getting on. You've been waiting for this." He places a gentle hand on the small of her back, calling her back to the conversation and away from the stars. He feels her tense at his touch.

"Harry," she says, soft, low and meekly. "I don't know what I want anymore." She begins to cry. For herself. For Ron. And for him. She's always thought she'd stop crying when it was over. She finds herself crying more. He moves closer to her and holds both of her hands. She leans her head into the crook of his neck, knowing exactly how it fits.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, rubbing her arm lightly, comforting her.

"Of course, Harry."

"When I was laying in the forest after Voldemort struck me down," He begins. He feels her grip on his hands tighten at the mention of his name. "I thought that was it for me. I was prepared for that to be the end."

"Stop. You don't have to tell me this…" She cuts him off, pulling her hands away and standing up. She rests in front of the window, her arms clutched to the pane in front of her like it's all she can do to remain upright.

"Let me finish," he continues, without protest. "I don't remember much of it. I remember the battle. And I remember bits and pieces – vaguely coming to here and there while I laid there, waiting for it to be over." She turns to him, tears streaming down her face, her back to the window. He continues.

"I remember your perfume. All I could smell was your perfume." He looks down at his hands, avoiding eye contact with her. He hears her sigh and notices how it's mixed with a slight sob. He feels the bed dip beside her when she shits back down, closer than before.

"I wanted to go with you." She says, her hand resting on his knee, slightly squeezing.

"I wasn't going to let you do that, Hermione. You had to of known that."

"I didn't think it was your choice. We were in it together." She says. He senses a twinge of anger in her voice. He smiles slightly. Only Hermione would feel abandoned by being asked to stay behind in a fight to the death.

"We weren't going to die together." He says matter-of-factly. She nods her head, expecting his response. "I came to terms with my death. I never could have accepted yours." She looks at him and they lock eyes. He doesn't think he's ever seen her look this sad.

"I see your body in Hagrid's arms every time I close my eyes." She whispers, breaking their stare. He feels a tear hit his leg that's now bent flat towards her. He reaches out and runs his fingers over the scar on her wrist. He looks at her and she knows he understands.

"I'm sorry." It's all he can squeak out, as he leans his forehead to hers, one hand holding the side of her face, the other resting on her lap with hers. She tilts her face and places one hand on his chest, moving closer to him. He moves his other hand to her face and brushes her bangs away. His thumb wipes away lingering tears on her cheek.

She kisses him. It's sweet and soft and he can't remember it feeling this way with Ginny. She thinks his face is rougher than Ron's as she pulls him closer. They break slightly before going back for more. His hands pull her hair out of its ponytail and her fingers tangle in the collar of his t-shirt. He pulls away breathless.

"I should go." She says, springing up and flattening her clothes. She walks to the door while she puts her hair back up. He grabs her arm before she reaches the door. She doesn't turn around. She can feel his breath on the back of her neck. She shivers.

"I love you." He whispers, so quiet she has to tilt her ear to him to hear it. She turns around slowly and places both hands on his chest. He grabs them. She opens her mouth in response but closes it again. He kisses her forehead. She wraps her arms around him and leans her head against his chest.

She breaks the hug and smiles at him. It's the first genuine smiles he's seen from her since their dance weeks ago.

"One day, this won't be so hard." She touches his face and tilts her head to look at him.

Before he can respond, she slips out the door and she's gone. He lays back in bed and thinks the stars have never looked brighter before his eyes close.

It's the first sleep he's had in three days.


End file.
